Antwian Davis

Over Winter Break 2017 three SVOTS Seminarians participated in an IOCC Action Team that helped rebuild homes in New Orleans, an area devastated by Hurricane Katrina in 2005: Dn. Andrew Honoré, Evan LeDoux, and Antwian (Anthony) Davis. Seminarian Davis shares his experience ministering—and being ministered to!—during his one week adventure in Louisiana.

My trip to Louisiana was amazing—so amazing that my experience is almost hard to put into words. To begin, the people from IOCC who put the trip together were great: they took care of us from the moment we signed up to the time we got on the plane to go back to the Seminary.

And, one thing we never had to worry about was food. As soon as we landed, the IOCC Team took us out to eat, and from there on, we never stopped eating the great cuisine of Louisiana!

For me though, the best part of the experience was getting to spend time with all the people on the trip—students from the other seminaries, and even other seminarians from St. Vlad’s. I know that might sound a little strange, but because of our busy class schedules while the Seminary is in session, we just do not have the opportunity to see each other or to spend time around each other as much as we’d like. This was a chance to get to know each other personally, outside of the daily routine of classes and schoolwork.

Our days on the IOCC Action Team were composed of daily prayer in the morning and breakfast, followed by the trip to our job site, where we were tasked with completing a house build for the organization “Habitat for Humanity.” We did various different things, depending on the need, from putting up siding to painting. We ate our lunches—which we had made each morning after breakfast—on the job site.

After the workday, we went back to the Lutheran church where our daily meals were prepared, and cleaned up for dinner. After dinner we enjoyed a little down time before vespers, and after vespers each of us gave a reflection about our day—which offered us a time to get to understand each other personally and spiritually. We even spent a couple of nights hanging around an outside fire pit, having refreshments and, again, getting to know each other a little better.

One day we visited the Lower Ninth Ward in New Orleans, to see where most of the flooding took place during Hurricane Katrina. That eye-opening experience alone was worth going on the trip; I saw where the devastation had occurred and how the city is still rebuilding ten years later.

The work I did for Habitat for Humanity was rewarding and life changing—an opportunity to step outside of myself and my daily routine, to do something for someone else and help them start life in a new home. (Personal note: don’t shy away from a trip like this if you lack building experience, because the onsite supervisors are there to help and make sure safety always comes first.)

I would recommend this IOCC Seminary Build to anyone who would like to have a wonderful experience working with good people from several seminaries, IOCC, and Habitat of Humanity—not to mention the unforgettable experience of Southern hospitality!

Sandy Hermansen

O Lord, open Thou My lips and my mouth shall show forth Thy praise.

How many times have I heard this phrase, spoken by the priest at the beginning of the Divine Liturgy, and missed how bold and vulnerable a prayer it truly is? After all, if "out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks," then asking God to open my mouth is to lay bare my heart before him. And this, indeed, gives me pause. When the floodgates are opened, what will spill out of the innermost parts of my being? Will it be selfishness, bitterness, and fear, or faith, hope, and love? How, really, do the words of my mouth—streaming from the meditations of my heart—become pleasing in the sight of God? How do I fill my heart so that my mouth sings praise?

My first month at seminary brought all of this to the forefront for me when I found myself having to readjust my sense of a daily schedule to not only include academic classes, but morning and evening chapel services as well. Having come from a decade in the workforce as a school administrator and teacher, going to church twice a day was definitely a change for me. And—just to clarify—it was hard. It was hard to not skip Matins and sleep in. It was hard to pause my work to go to Vespers in the evening. But even harder than making time in my day, it was harder to make room in my heart for this daily cycle of services.

Like a new rule of prayer or a spiritual discipline, I found that the struggle was ultimately an internal one. I had come to seminary to learn about the Church. How could I expect to learn about it if I wasn't also participating in its life? If I believed it was valuable enough for me to pause my career to come here to study, could I also believe it was valuable enough for me to pause my day, to go to chapel to worship?

Then one day at the end of the first month of school, I was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes and singing to myself, when I suddenly realized something. I was singing a hymn from Matins! When had I learned it, exactly? How long had I been singing it? When did it become the first song on my heart like that? My heart filled with joy. Today—this moment at least—when my mouth opened, it had brought forth praise. These services had indeed been forming me unaware, filling my kardia and nous with a song of truth and worship. Perhaps this was just as important as all the good and meaningful things I was learning in my classes. Perhaps even more!

Fast forward to Lent and Holy Week here at St. Vladimir's, and this lesson was amplified again. Lenten services were longer and multiplied. During Holy Week, we spent 5–7 hours in services, way more than I had ever had opportunity to do when I was working back home. My feet hurt, my voice came and went, and my eyes grew heavy during a few of the Scripture readings. This was indeed a new kind of spiritual (and physical!) work for me. Yet, it is no accident that the context of the verse "Open Thou my lips" is within the penitential Psalm 50/51, for in the context of that Lenten preparation I similarly found myself struggling between being laid bare before God and begging Him to fill me with His mercy. And of course, when we began to sing the Paschal hymns—"Let God Arise," "The Angel Cried," and "Christ is Risen from the dead trampling down death by death!"—how could my heart not burst forth with praise.

Sandy Hermansen is a first year Master of Arts student from Oklahoma. She holds a Masters degree in Curriculum and Instruction and a Bachelor's degree in English Literature. Sandy is a professional educator who has worked as a school teacher and administrator. As such, she is interested in the intersection of the worlds of education and Orthodoxy, and desires to have her studies here at the seminary inform her work in education after she finishes her degree.

On Monday, March 2, the St. Vladimir's women's group met together to learn a valuable skill: cardiopulmonary resuscitation, or CPR! We were joined by Rebecca from CPRed (based out of Brewster, New York), who led the women in CPR skills to be used on adults, children, and babies in cardiopulmonary emergencies. Everyone who attended will receive a certificate from the American Heart Association. Congratulations!

Andrew and Melissa Cannon

Let us commend ourselves…
The first few days after the miscarriage were foggy and confusing. We were devastated. Afraid. Empty. We weren’t so much angry with God as numb. We shut down and withdrew. Why did we have to let go of the child we never met? Our emotional turmoil mirrored the winter weather: swirling snow shut everything down, and we were shut inside with our grief.

On the third day, God gave us a great gift to begin the slow process of healing. The blizzard dissipated, leaving everything hushed by a serene blanket of white snow. With everyone else inside to enjoy the day off, cozy with family before their fireplaces, the world outside remained quiet and pure, unspoiled. A new beginning. We alone emerged, tentatively, into that peaceful silence; tentatively, we entrusted part of our broken selves back to the Creator.

The next place we felt comfortable was in church, the Saturday night Vigil. We didn’t have to make meaningless small talk or look anyone in the eye. Others prayed by candlelight; we simply stood, holding onto the stillness from the previous day, letting the prayers wash over us. Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee. The prayers in preparation for Sunday, the day of resurrection ­­already, but not yet. For Thy Name’s sake have I waited for Thee. We sat in the hushed service together, keeping watch before the icon of St. Anna the Prophetess, who is practiced at receiving children. We decided to commend our lost child to her, and to remember her with the same name. From the morning watch until night, let Israel hope in the Lord. Perhaps we could relearn how to commend ourselves to Christ, too.

Let us commend each other…
The close community at St. Vladimir’s carried us. Two priests came to see us shortly after it happened. They listened, they prayed; they assured us we could always call on them. They were kind and wise in their brevity. Perhaps one of the best lessons in the art of pastoral care.

The best gift our friends gave us at first was space. The second best was food. The evening after our loss came a knock at the door: no one there, just a bag of groceries and warm comfort food. And a note: We’ve been there; we’re here for you. Two of our closest friends. First there was a wave of guilt—how had we not known and acknowledged their pain? Then a stronger feeling, like a firm embrace: they loved us anyway, and there was nothing we could do about it.

We were not prepared for the gentle compassion we received. No one smothered us, but somehow, discretely, we were assured of everyone’s support. Family sent cards. A baby blanket in memoriam. We were even less prepared for the number of friends who had also miscarried. Obadiah. Innocent. Anna. They all had names, icons in the family prayer corner. How had we never noticed? Another couple of our closest friends invited us in. They had been there, too. You’ll never forget her. It still hits us unexpectedly after three years. Tears. Hugs. A deep bond that only comes with vulnerability and shared experience. Only in reflecting back do we see how we made it through.

With every act of kindness toward us, every tear shed with us, every prayer said secretly for us: our friends and family commended us to Christ when we were too lost and lethargic to know where to turn.

Let us commend all our life unto Christ our God.
Slowly the pain dulled, the sobs came less frequently, and we returned to life as usual. We mercifully receded from the spotlight. Nothing would ever be the same, but neither did it have to remain bleak. There were new pains, new fears, new questions; but we were finding a new resilience, and new wisdom. God had not left us during the most painful time of our lives, and in fact, we had never been closer to or more loved by our friends. As we practiced ­­haltingly ­­ giving every thorny part of our life over to God, we found that the pain was not to be avoided or merely endured, but could actually be cultivated into the most precious fruit­bearing tree. Now the flaming sword no longer guards the gates of Eden; Behold, through the Cross joy has come into all the world. Enter again into paradise.

After forty days of mourning, of lamentation, of the cold beginning of a New York spring—Pascha. In spite of ourselves, we dove into the celebration. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life. Still not yet, not fully. But it felt closer; more certain. We grew to believe with more zeal than ever before. The child that never saw the light of day—her story did not, in fact, end before it began. We hope to meet her one day.

After forty days of paschal joy, of the hope of resurrection and reunion, of sunny days and blooming flowers, we had a memorial service and found out we were pregnant again. At the beginning of this year, our son was born, healthy and happy, by the grace of God. He cannot replace Anna, or erase the scar from our hearts; neither will he be overshadowed by her. Rather, he will grow up under the watchful protection of the Prophetess Anna and the Wonderworker Nicholas. And standing together in our prayer corner, before their icons and by their prayers, we three together will learn to commend ourselves, and each other, and all our life unto Christ our God.

Alexandru Popovici

I first encountered St. Vladimir's Seminary early in 2013, when a partnership was forming between the Faculty of Orthodox Theology in Bucharest, St. Vladimir's Seminary, and the Romanian Orthodox Archdiocese in the Americas (ROAA). While browsing Svots.edu, I learned about the Seminary's history, mission, and community life. I marveled at the photos of Hierarchical Liturgies served in Three Hierarchs Chapel and thought about applying for the Master's program, but attending seemed like an impossible dream.

Then came the critical encouragement that was needed. Professor Remus Rus of the Faculty of Orthodox Theology had served for a year as a visiting St. Vladimir's professor. He told me about his experience at St. Vladimir's, emphasizing that the Seminary isn't merely an educational institution teaching Orthodoxy, but also a spiritual center and community where professors, seminarians, and their families study, pray, and live side by side. He noted that this enriches the experiences of the faith immensely. He also said that studying at St. Vladimir's would better prepare me to serve the Orthodox Church and face the challenges that have been brought to us by secular society.

Up to this point, studying abroad had never been a priority for me. Three years ago, my whole life was centered around my studies in Orthodox Theology at the Faculty in Bucharest, where I was a student and also held a full time position as a network administrator and webmaster. I was planning to get married after graduation and to continue my activity within the faculty there. Yet God had bigger plans for me, of which I was not aware.

I decided to connect with Fr. Daniel Ene, Secretary of ROAA. He told me that my dream to study at St. Vladimir's might actually be a possibility, thanks to the agreement signed between the Archdiocese and the Seminary. Father Daniel encouraged me to apply to SVOTS, and to come for a visit.

During this first journey to America, I spent time on campus, talking with seminarians, professors and staff. I attended chapel services, and sat in on classes taught by the Very Reverend Dr. Chad Hatfield and Professor Paul Meyendorff. Studying at St. Vladimir's became my goal; I decided to finish my courses in Romania and apply to SVOTS.

During a subsequent visit to the United States, His Eminence Archbishop Nicolae of ROAA gave me his hierarchical blessing to apply for a Master Degree. Furthermore, the Archbishop helped me to fund my studies. So it was that on September 1, 2014, I began the Master of Arts program at SVOTS. What an amazing time that was! As a teenager, during the first year of my Romanian theological studies, I had read books by former St. Vladimir's deans—Great Lent, by Fr. Alexander Schmemann, and Byzantine Theology, by Fr. John Meyendorff—and learned about the liturgical renewal they promoted. It never crossed my mind that within ten years, I would become a seminarian at the same school where Fr. Alexander and Fr. John had served for many years!

Now, halfway through the last semester of my studies, I give thanks and praise to God for guiding me onto this path. Being a seminarian at St. Vladimir's has enabled me to understand the Orthodox faith from a deeper perspective. It has helped me not only to enrich my theological knowledge and to value my faith even more, but to learn and to experience new things. I discovered wider horizons through the liturgical life, the discipline of study, participating in community service,  and interaction with new people from different cultures and traditions. After two years, St. Vladimir's Seminary is home.

I would like to give thanks to Archbishop Nicolae for his support and prayers, to Fr. Chad Hatfield for his guidance and care, and to Fr. Daniel Ene for his help. Last, but not least, I want to thank all those who support and donate to St. Vladimir's Seminary. Without their help, I and other international students would have not been able to study Orthodox theology on American soil.

Alex is a second year M.A. student from Bucharest, Romania. He holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Orthodox Theology and a Master’s Degree in Systematics, both granted by the University of Bucharest, Romania. Before coming to the United States, he was a member of the Board of the Faculty of Orthodox Theology in Bucharest. In his words, he is "passionate about technology, traveling, reading, and cooking."

Interested in helping other students like Alex? Learn more here!

Erik Potter

As a seminarian, it can be very easy to lose yourself in classes and books, giving most of your attention to Liturgy, Patristics and Scripture. While these are all wonderful and formative pursuits, in many ways we only taste the fruit of that growth in opportunities to live out the gospel in the love and practical service of our neighbor.  I was blessed to have such an opportunity this winter, working with International Orthodox Christian Charities (IOCC) and Habitat for Humanity in New Orleans.  This was the third year that IOCC, with the help of generous donors, sponsored a week long Seminarian Home Build Team in Louisiana, precisely with the hope of fostering a love of service and empowering future servants of the Church to find ways they can practically show the love of Christ to a world desperately in need of it. 

The IOCC asked only for a $150 donation, primarily just to ensure our commitment and personal investment, and they provided for travel, accommodations, and (fitting the city's reputation) some of the best food one could hope for. This year's team consisted of three seminarians from Hellenic College/Holy Cross, one from St. Tikhon's Orthodox Theological Seminary, one from St. Herman's Orthodox Theological Seminary, myself from St. Vladimirs, as well as St. Vladimir's alumnus Fr. Mark Vair (2015), and Fr. Rick Andrews from St. George Greek Orthodox Church, St. Paul, MN. We were led by the IOCC's U.S. Director, Dan Christopulos.  

I had the pleasure of traveling from Boston with George and Thomas, two of Holy Cross' seminarians, and it became evident even before the project had formally begun that the fellowship would be a highlight. It is truly encouraging to pray, eat, work, and socialize side by side with faithful Orthodox Christians, all dedicated to a common goal and moved by the same Spirit. We made a point of sharing our reflections and thoughts after vespers each day, and I deeply appreciate the insights and inspiration of my fellow students, and the guidance and experience of our leaders. As iron sharpens iron, sharing the week as a group we were capable of learning and growing so much more from the project.

The condition of the city itself drew into sharp focus the damage people are capable of, as well as the profound good that can be done when people decide to give of themselves to help their brothers and sisters. While the city has come a long way since Hurricane Katrina, the physical and social scars are still readily apparent. We made a point of visiting the Presbytere Museum, which focuses very heavily on the Hurricane and its aftermath. For all the strength of the storm, it became painfully apparent that much of the human cost was owed to problems of planning, communication and even indifference.  However, the tragedy also brought out many shining examples of selfless love, from the constant efforts of Habitat for Humanity and countless volunteers to rebuild what was destroyed, to churches like Peace Lutheran, our host for the week, who despite their own financial difficulties, have made every effort to make service to the community a defining part of their ministry.

It was clear early on that the immediate difference we were able to make on this trip was relatively small compared to all the work that needed to be done.  We did some carpentry, cleaning, weather-proofing, and painting on six different properties, but left with quite a lot of work remaining. We were there to learn and prepare for a lifetime of service. Since 1992 IOCC has been a shining example of pan-Orthodox charitable outreach to all corners of the world, regardless of the faith of those in need, believing that caring for others is a necessary element of a Christian life. In recent years they have expanded their efforts to domestic disaster relief, training first responders, and cooperating with other charitable organizations, to best provide necessary services. We saw this first hand in the partnership with Habitat. A tremendous impact can be made with existing resources, whether it be the use of parish halls or the giving of time and talent. 

The retreat was a practical lesson in living the Gospel, through prayer, community, and service.  I will gratefully carry that lesson with me.

Read more about the IOCC project

Erik Gregory Potter is a first-year Master of Divinity student from the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North. He comes to St. Vladimir's by way of St. George Church in Norwood, MA, where he also learned a deep appreciation for liturgical music and good food. Erik holds a Bachelor of Arts in Near Eastern and Judaic Studies from Brandeis University, where he developed his love for biblical languages and first discovered the works of St. Gregory of Nyssa, eventually his patron saint. He is discerning a priestly vocation, and hopes to serve Christ's Church to the best of his abilities in whatever way God sees fit.              

Christopher Moore

Saying goodbye to Mongolia last summer was tough. After years of preparation, we had only been in Ulaanbaatar for nine months out of an expected two years, when suddenly it was time to make a change. We had to back out of teaching roles that we had committed to for the coming fall semester even though our Mongolian language abilities were finally starting to show a little promise. The midweek small group that met at our apartment for dinner, evening prayers, short bible study, and games was just coming into its own.

Go to seminary now?! It seemed almost impossible, being literally halfway around the world, having just a little over a month before classes would begin, and not even having glanced at the application! Yet certainly with God all things are possible, and with the help of trusted counselors, and our sense that doors were opening as we prepared to be accepted into the M.Div. program, we felt He was calling us to take this step of faith.

Pursuing seminary wasn't entirely a thought out of the blue; since the time we had applied to become full-time missionaries with the Orthodox Christian Mission Center (OCMC) I had been pondering the necessity of formal theological training. Even after arriving in Asia, we were encouraged by an Orthodox metropolitan who also was a fellow missionary serving in a nearby country, to take this step if we had long-term plans to serve. However, the answer to my pondering always seemed to be "wait," until last summer.

Fast forward to March, 2016. Between classes, a full liturgical schedule, serving as a husband and father, and participating in extra events, life at seminary is full but rewarding. I was a music composition major in college, and now I've entered into classes filled with theology, history, philosophy, and practical ministry. The topics are at once new territory compared to my former education, yet at the same time quite familiar to me since I've been a Christian as long as I can remember. I am continually humbled at how skilled and intelligent my classmates are, and amazed at their wide variety of experiences.

We all strive together to apply this time of formation to our lives, and I know part of my role is to apply a particular "foreign missions" lens to the light of the education we are receiving. When we finish here, Lord willing, my family will return as missionaries with OCMC. Therefore, I am also glad to be a part of the St. Innocent Mission Society here on campus, since it is one way for seminarians to be aware of—and participate in—missions and evangelism. 

Our desire to return to Mongolia is as strong as ever. Though I know I've got a lifetime of growth into the mature man that Christ calls me to, I pray that what we are receiving here at seminary will greatly equip our family for ministry when we return. I desire to share Jesus Christ and His Church with the people of Mongolia, and to find ways to enculturate the Gospel in a land the size of Alaska, where there is only one Orthodox parish and where less than two percent of the people call themselves Christian. If God has given me such a hope in the midst of my known and unknown shortcomings, I pray that He will open my heart to an even greater love for people wherever He places us, after these years of preparation at St. Vladimir's.

Chris Moore is a first-year Master of Divinity student from St. John the Forerunner Orthodox Church in Indianapolis, IN. He and his wife Jennifer have been missionaries with OCMC since 2012. They have been blessed with two young boys, Andrew, who is 2 years old, and Gideon, born in December 2015.  After graduation the Moores plan to return to full-time missionary service.

On March 9, a special Lenten meeting of the St. Juliana Society, the St. Vladimir's fellowship for future clergy wives, featured author and speaker Dr. Albert Rossi, St. Vladimir's director of Field Education. An experienced retreat leader, Dr. Rossi led the women in a mini-version of the seminars he holds in parishes around the U.S.

The women wrote answers to reflective questions such as "Tell us about a time when God spoke to you" on 3 x 5 cards, participated in a period of silence, and listened to music. "We need to choose silence, in order to hear the voice of God," emphasized Dr. Rossi. "The whole Old Testament is about the Israelites refusing to be still." 

Dr. Rossi is a licensed clinical psychologist in the state of New York. He recently released a book with Ancient Faith Publishing, Becoming a Healing Presence. His podcast of the same name can be heard on Ancient Faith Radio.

"Life is pain, highness" the Dread Pirate Roberts/Westley tells Buttercup in the classic film The Princess Bride. "Anyone who says differently is selling something."

Like many, I grew up loving this movie. Our family returned often to Blockbuster to rent it, until my parents decided it would save us both time and money to just go ahead and buy the VHS. Our dinner conversations were peppered with movie lines, and my brothers and I could recite many scenes from memory. Perhaps this is why, 15 years later, the above quote comes back to me frequently. But now, my mind and experiences have tweaked the wording slightly, and this is what echoes in my heart:

"Life is change.  Anyone who says differently is selling something." 

Our year and a half at seminary so far, the first four years of marriage before we arrived here, the birth of our children, the anticipation of the future after my husband's graduation, and the day-by-day living out our vocation as children of God and discerning what that looks like from one season to the next—these have been packed with experiences of change. Change is the very nature of life experiences, period. And when I stop being open to change, I stop being open to growth. I stop being open to God. 

How easy it is to get comfortable ("finally") and feel like I have arrived. "Finally" moving to St. Vladimir's, after a long season of searching our hearts, receiving counsel, and getting out of debt, not to mention packing up our home and saying goodbye to my home parish of 18 years...only to realize that, although I went through a wrenching change to get here, there was to be no sitting comfortably and congratulating myself on arriving. And how grateful I am for the last year and half of challenge, prayer, growth, and friendship! 

There are other, daily, invitations to change. From going with the flow of my husband's every-varying seminarian schedule, to adapting my expectations of my role in church as a mother of two young boys and with a husband who has other tasks during services (I am having a season away from the choir); from saying goodbye to graduating friends in June and meeting new friends and neighbors in the fall; to letting go one mental timeline of our lives after another as plans shift and we receive direction, I have near-constant choices to make about how I will respond to change. 

It is a struggle to continue to open up my hands, plans, family, and finances to God.  But there is no other path to Life, and "anyone who says differently is selling something."

Francois Fenelon writes in The Royal Way of the Cross, "If you persist in serving [God] in one place or one way rather than another, you are serving Him according to your will, not His. But if you are ready to go anywhere and do anything [and then go anywhere and do anything again, I think to myself], this is indeed taking up your cross and following Him." I read this passage this week, a timely reminder in the midst of an already-busy, and ever so blessed, semester. "Do not be afraid of anything on your way. God will lead you by the hand, if only you trust Him completely, and are filled with love for Him rather than fear for yourself."

Life is change! Thanks be to God, Who infuses every moment with the invitation to repent, to cling to Him, and to grow into His image, wherever the journey may lead. 

Lauren Pulley grew up as a missionary kid and later as a priest's kid, as her family's journey led them into the Orthodox Church. Her parents, Fr. David and Mat. Rozanne Rucker (now OCMC missionaries serving at St. Herman's Seminary), began a church in their living room in Kentucky when Lauren was nine years old. The parish was brought into the Orthodox Church in America (Diocese of the South) in 2002 as St. Athanasius Orthodox Church. Lauren served in the choir, children's and youth ministries, and later on the parish council, before moving to St. Vladimir's Seminary with her husband and son. She has a Masters in Education and has taught World History.

Lauren is married to Wesley (no relation to the Dread Pirate Roberts), a second-year M.A. student who is preparing for ordination, if God wills. He received his M.Div. from Asbury Seminary and served as a youth and associate pastor before joining the Orthodox Church. Lauren and Wes were married after his reception into the Church and now have two sons, James and Walter. They hope to serve God in the OCA's Diocese of the South after Wes's graduation in May.

Simon Menya

Greetings in the name of our Lord!

I thank the Almighty Father for the blessing and opportunity for me to attend St. Vladimir’s Seminary, and I thank the entire administration for supporting my education. Over the Christmas holiday, it was my privilege to go home and check in on my siblings, who are my responsibility.

While I was home reconnecting with my family and Orthodox parishes, the priests in Northern Uganda offered their greetings to everyone in the community of St. Vladimir’s. They were glad to have me back to help them, now that I am a seminarian. They appreciated the Seminary for sending along incense from the Holy Land and church calendars, plus the text for St. Basil’s feast day and a few loaves of Artos, a special bread that is blessed on the occasion of certain feast days.

Above all, Metropolitan Bishop Jonah Lwanga sent his greetings and gratitude for the OCA 2016 Desk Calendars and the Annual Reports of St. Vladimir’s Seminary, given to me by SVOTS Chancellor/CEO, the Very Reverend Dr. Chad Hatfield, to share with Uganda’s clergy.

From the time I landed in Uganda on Christmas Eve until I returned to New York on the eve of Blizzard Jonas, my trip was blessed in every way. Before traveling to my home in Gulu, Northern Uganda, I paid a visit to Metropolitan Bishop Jonah Lwanga, greeting him using my newly learnt Greek vocabulary, for which he rejoiced. Then when I reached my home that evening, about 20 children from the neighborhood came around and warmly welcomed me, and our houseful of children all received sweets from America brought with me from Fr. Alexander Rentel!

The following day was Christmas, so I went to pray in the parish of St. Nectarios Orthodox Church, where I took one loaf of Artos, which had been bought by my seminary friend, Dimitrios, so that the faithful in Uganda could taste it for the first time! Everyone in the church said the taste of the bread was “the best of the best.”

I dedicated that week to teaching the choir to sing the liturgical songs with western notation, given to me by St. Vladimir’s chapel choir director, Hierodeacon Herman. With the full text in hand for the Feast of St. Basil the Great, we were able to follow the whole service, and my parish priest Fr. George Lakony was so pleased.  Additionally, I had supplied Rev. Fr. George with the names of all the people I knew from St. Vladimir’s community, and he prayed for each one as he was blessing the Artos on the feast.

Many people from surrounding villages also came to visit me, and they all wanted to hear about the America: What does it look like?  How do the churches worship? Children from the neighborhood continued to come so that I could teach them and draw pictures with them. I thought about what St. George said, that we must “teach them when they are young.”

Currently, the priests in Uganda are struggling with the challenges in extending God’s Word in their parishes. Regrettably, the financial crisis in Greece has caused the Church in Uganda to lose necessary support from the Orthodox Church in that country. Therefore, it was all the more important that I was able to share a lot of knowledge I had acquired in my seminary classes.

I also described for them the hospitality and the love shown to our Ugandan people, within churches on the other side of the world!. For example, Deacon Evan Freeman, lecturer in Liturgical Art at St. Vladimir’s, had sent along with me, the layout of an Orthodox Church's interior, which I was able to share. This reminded the faithful of Uganda that they are loved and appreciated by fellow Orthodox Christians living in America and other Christian parts of the world.

I visited all the surrounding churches during my three-week visit: reading, serving, preaching and teaching in congregations, explaining to them a deeper understanding of church unity, and sharing the love of Christ for all humanity. To my surprise, my speaking had improved due to my time at the Seminary, which confirmed for me the value of my challenging first-semester classes!

For example, in Church History class at the Seminary, I had learned that priests must be active, both to initiate and also to keep alive churches, by correcting the heresies that may exist—exactly as the early church fathers had done. In Spirituality class, I had realized that theology can enable us to examine the thoughts of people in today’s world, and encourage them to share experiences, with the possibility of transferring people’s materially or politically based visions into spiritual understanding. In Liturgical Arts class I had learned that at all times and everywhere, knowledge of correct liturgical practice is a must. In Prison Ministry class, I had learned how ministry is like getting into a boat for an adventure, and that truly there are both beautifully light and also woefully dark sides in humanity. In Old Testament class, I had learned how everything we do is impressed upon our hearts, and that God works differently with each human being, according to His wisdom—there is, moreover a “devouring fire” in God, a purifying, burning love in which the righteous dwell (Is 33: 14, 15; I Jn 4:16). In New Testament class, I had learned a lot from St. Paul’s teaching, especially about how Jesus’ disciples were sent to teach all nations of the world.

Before my return to New York, I again went and received a blessing from my Metropolitan. Then, upon boarding my plane, I was seated next to a four-year-old boy named Charles. He was travelling to the United States for an operation, and was alone except for the care of the plane’s crew. When they told me about him I knew God made me to be Charles's healing presence there and so I said I would take care of him, as I remembered the verse of the Gospel of Mark 12:31: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

I looked after him on the flight: feeding him, giving him water to drink, covering him with blanket, and comforting him. It was so good that I happened to speak his dialect—I knew he’d miss that familiar comfort when he cried as I was getting out to change flights in Brussels.

The day I returned to New York, I was welcomed by my first snowfall: Blizzard Jonas!

Thank God for my safe trip! May St. Vladimir’s Seminary continue to be a life-changing place for me, with the help of all the professors, teachers, friends and community members! As it touches my life, it also touches the lives of hundreds a people, thousands of miles away, in my home country.

Love in Christ,
Simon

Simon Menya is a first year Master of Divinity student from St. Basil Orthodox Church in Gulu, Northern Uganda. His brothers were killed by the rebel group Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) during Ugandan civil strife; Simon, his older brother, and his elderly parents survived. He is the first person from the nine churches in Northern Uganda to study abroad, which he says is his challenge and opportunity.

Before beginning as a seminarian in August of 2015, Simon served as Headmaster of the Archangel Michael Orthodox Secondary School. Funded by the International Orthodox Christian Charities (IOCC) in 2010 for its first three years, the school grew from 105 to 558 students, attracting children from across the country in South Sudan. It is the only Orthodox church school in the northern region of 30 districts. Simon's hope is to do more ecclesiastical work after he completes his studies, and ordination could be in his future "if it is God's will. I hope to restore the lost faith and hopes of the people due to the 24 years of war, and to encourage self supportive life skills in them through our churches," he says.